


you cannot write a book from a single page (hands on the clock only turn one way)

by brokendevil



Series: Sundays!Verse [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-07 18:40:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20821988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokendevil/pseuds/brokendevil
Summary: Children begin by loving their parents; as they grow older they judge them; sometimes they forgive them.;;Tumblr Prompt for Sundays Verse: Has Abby ever noticed just how much Lexa loves and cares for Clark? I understand (but don't condone) why it's hard for Abby to accept them but has there ever been a moment where she had to take a pause because of the amount of love Clarke and Lexa have for each other?





	you cannot write a book from a single page (hands on the clock only turn one way)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello. Please be aware, as always, that Sundays!Verse is heavy with religion and homophobia. While it's not as strong in this oneshot, I do want to say that if that bothers you and/or triggers you then please don't read or put yourself in a position where you may uncomfortable.
> 
> I also ask that you don't read with the intention of forgiving Abby for her role in Sundays, but perhaps read to understand her a little more.

**i.**

**THEN**

Elizabeth Charles is a year older than Abby Sullivan and she’s far more mature in all the ways that Abby wishes she could be. She’s already had her first kiss with Chris Andrews; the local paperboy with beautiful chestnut eyes and a smile that belongs on the television.

Abby remembers the day that Elizabeth told her about it; about how Chris took her out to the baseball field and how they listened to The Smashing Pumpkins before he held her hand and told her she was beautiful. There’s a twinkle in Elizabeth’s eye that hits deep inside Abby and it blooms quickly into jealousy, spreading into her veins and her blood and her mind. 

She desperately wants to have her first kiss but nobody even looks her way.

(Not properly. Not until she’s twenty-one and fixing up a handsome man’s hand in a hospital room.)

* * *

She’s an only child and Elizabeth comes from a family of five. She has three brothers and a sister and Elizabeth was the third born, so it comes as no surprise that the girl takes Abby under her wing and they form their own little family. 

She’s the middle child, she says. Forgotten but not unwanted. And Abby is spoilt and loved, almost too much, so they balance one another perfectly. Abby teaches Elizabeth about being special, Elizabeth teaches Abby it’s not all about her. 

They just work.

The truth is Elizabeth isn’t just Abby’s best friend; she’s her everything. She’s so much cooler, and so much older, and she smokes exactly like she’s seen the girls on TV do. There’s a presence about Elizabeth that just  _ attracts  _ Abby, that keeps bringing her back.

And oh, she’s well aware that her parents do not approve. No. Not at all. There’s been more than one occasion that she’s had to defend Elizabeth to her father although she knows his opinion won’t change. She has piercings in her nose and she listens to Tori Amos a little too passionately; she has a pixie cut and she dyed it black before the first day. 

She’s everything Abby isn’t but they’re best friends.

Abby isn’t about to walk away from that.

Elizabeth is simply misunderstood and she’s been left to float around without direction or guidance. That’s what Abby is there for, she tells herself. To guide.

* * *

“Do you like him?”

Elizabeth ponders on that for a moment. From between her lips there’s a long, even flow of smoke and Abby fidgets as she watches the cigarette burn. There’s a black mark on the white paper from her friends lipstick and she has to wonder where Elizabeth can buy  _ black  _ lipstick. 

She wonders a lot of things about Elizabeth.

“I don’t know who I like,” Elizabeth finally says and her white teeth chew at her bottom lip. She looks absolutely everywhere except for at Abby and the younger girl wonders what is on her mind, wonders what has her so deep in thought. “He’s nice and he’s  _ mad  _ attractive but I don’t know, Abby. Something was missing.”

Abby shrugs because she hasn’t had her first kiss yet so she isn’t the best person to ask for advice. 

* * *

(Two years later and Abby and Elizabaeth are watching an episode of ‘The Nanny’. Abby’s father sits behind them at his desk, occasionally lifting his eyes at the entertaining show but mostly keeping himself to his paperwork as Abby and Elizabeth relax for an evening.

_ “Oh honey I’m not gay. I’m just pathetic.” _

Abby laughs at the line along with the audience and her father huffs in disgust but Elizabeth stays quiet, quiet, quiet.)

* * *

“I think I like girls,” Elizabeth says before she leaves for college. The bus is chugging behind them and Elizabeth holds her belongings tightly in one hand, fear spreading through her entire face and body. “Is that okay?”

Abby blinks once, twice, three times.

And then she walks away.

(Sometimes, when she’s alone in Church or by her bed, she prays that Elizabeth forgives her for that day.)

**NOW**

Sometimes Abby wonders where everyone comes from. 

Polis isn’t the most densely populated city in the world but it seems like there is a never ending stream of people coming in and out of the hospital at an almost hourly rate. The majority of the time she loves her job; she likes the fast pace, the quick decision making she has to make, the thrill of  _ helping  _ to save a life. 

But there are other days where she hasn’t slept and it feels like  _ nobody  _ is willing to make a decision without asking her first and she can’t remember the last time that she spoke to her husband. 

She’s tired and she’s hurt and she knows there isn’t a cure for this.

“Ma’am?” Abby sighs but looks up, ready to help and advise and be the woman she moved to Arkadia General to be. She smiles as Eric Jackson lingers in her doorway, a tired look in his own eyes. “I’ve brought you a coffee and something to eat. You’ve been here as long as I have today and I’ve noticed you haven’t eaten anything.” 

He walks in and places a muffin and a coffee on her desk, a gentle smile on his face. “Thank you,” she says genuinely and notices his change of shoes from the usual comfortable shoes he wears at work. “Have you finished?”

“Yeah,” he smiles and bounces a little on the spot. “My boyfriend is back tomorrow for annual leave. He’s in the army so it’s been almost six months since I’ve seen him properly so I’ve taken a few extra days off. I’ve swapped shifts with Macallan so everything is covered, I promise. I’m sure I mentioned something to you when I applied for the time off.” 

_ Boyfriend. _

_ He has a boyfriend. _

“Oh,” Abby says stiffly and if she notices the change in Jackson’s face at her cold tone, she ignores it. “Well you should get along. I’m sure I’ll see you at some point next week.” 

She pretends to type on her computer so that Eric doesn’t try to engage in conversation with her again and when the door shuts close she lets out a deep sigh, one that shakes her entire body. 

* * *

When she finally make it home, it’s late. 

Part of her knows that she wasn’t completely missed. There used to be a time when her phone would hold missed calls or messages if she was home late but now it’s simply an expensive alarm clock that she carries around in her pocket. And she knows,  _ she knows,  _ it’s mostly her fault but it’s difficult. 

It’s just too difficult. 

As she walks into the warm house she’s greeted with the sound of laughter from the kitchen. Young laughter, completely free of worries or stress or pain. It’s been a long, long time since she’s heard that kind of laughter and it warms her from the inside out that her daughter is still capable of making that sound.

The living room is empty as she walks past and she wonders where Jake is. She used to know his schedule by heart, used to live by his routine, but that’s gone now. 

She hasn’t been on his schedule for months. 

“Clarke, stop,” a feminine voice rings out and it stops Abby in her tracks, unsure and hesitant to keep walking forward. But laughter follows the words and she can’t help it; she curious, wondrous. Her daughter is  _ laughing  _ again and she just wants to see it. Just once. “I look ridiculous.”

“You’re the Black Swan!”

“I look like a racoon.”

Clarke scoffs and Abby edges around the doorway just in time to see Clarke applying more eyeshadow around the arch of Lexa’s brow. Lexa is sitting on the counter; her socked feet wrapped around the back of Clarke’s thighs and she’s eating an apple even as Clarke continues to add more make-up to her face with gusto. 

“I don’t think this is right.”

Lexa laughs again and turns her head to face the little mirror that has been taken from the bathroom and placed at her side. “I don’t think it’s supposed to be that thick,” Lexa concedes but she keeps laughing while Clarke prods and pokes at her face. “And I’m pretty sure Natalie Portman has, like, a full face of white makeup.”

“You’re already pale. I didn’t think you needed completely erasing,” Clarke giggles and that just makes Lexa laugh harder; the two of them falling into one another and Abby watches as Clarke rests her forearms over Lexa’s shoulders before leaning her forehead against the other girls. “It looks cute.”

Lexa rolls her eyes and moves just enough that Abby can’t quite see her facial features anymore. But she can tell-- _ Oh,  _ she can tell--just how Lexa is looking at her daughter by the fondness in her voice. “Well at least you’re not perfect at everything. That takes a load off.”

“You think I’m perfect?”

Abby looks away as the girls kiss but she doesn’t leave the room, not yet. “At everything except for stage make-up.” Lexa says quietly and she murmurs something else that Abby misses. There’s a soft conversation between the girls that she can’t quite hear and she suspects that, even though the girls don’t know they have an audience, the words are meant for them privately. 

“Lexa?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you still love me even though I made you look like a horror movie character?”

“Yeah,” she says easily, like Clarke is asking an obvious question that has an obvious answer. “Do you still love me even though I look like a horror movie character?”

“Of course.”

(And Abby begins to slowly understand.)

(What is is that she understands, she doesn’t quite know yet.)

* * *

The window is open in her bedroom and she’s on the last chapter of her book when she hears them.

“I’ve missed your dad tonight. Where is he?”

“At the garage. He’s building a car or something.”

“Oh. Where was your mom then?”

“Avoiding me probably.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true, Lexa. Her car is right there. Have you seen her at all tonight?”

“ _ Clarke. _ ”

“Just. Not tonight, okay? I don’t want to argue about my mom tonight and how I should listen to her when she can’t even be bothered to come and speak to me. You can’t listen to someone who refuses to talk.”

“I’m not arguing. You know I’m on your side. I just don’t want you to regret anything.”

“Why do you defend her? She hates you.”

“Because she’s your mom, Clarke. You only get one of them but I completely understand how she’s hurt you. And I’m fine with her hating me if it means she’s not directing it at you. But we’re graduating in a few months and then you’ll move away to college. I don’t want you to look back in twenty years and regret not making things right.”

“It’s not me who needs to make it right.”

“No. But someone has to make the first step or you’re never going to go anywhere.”

“I don’t want to talk about my mom anymore. Can you just kiss me?”

It goes quiet and Abby sighs to herself as the voices start again but begin to fade away. Deep down, far down, Lexa’s words hit her and she has to admit that she’s right. Someone has to try, somebody has to be the bigger person, but it’s difficult to be that person when you just can’t agree with the choices being made. 

Yes, she can see Lexa makes Clarke happy and it seems she’s willing to fight for that happiness but --

But-- 

But...What?

She closes her book and struggles to finish that sentence.

Lexa makes Clarke happy and she’s willing to fight for that happiness. 

The End. 

* * *

(Before she falls asleep she prays for forgiveness from Elizabeth and Jake and, most of all, Clarke.)

**ii.**

**THEN**

Family dinner has always been important to the Sullivan family. Without fail, and without excuse, Abby is expected to be at the table no later than five thirty in the evening. School work can wait, courting can wait and Abby cannot remember a time that she hasn’t sat in the same seat at the same table in the same house. 

She’s twenty-two and she’s tired from working shifts at the hospital  _ and  _ studying. Jake has been lovely with it; a mechanic from out of state, she’s fallen hard and she knows it. He keeps joking that the ‘Millenium Bug’ is going to wipe out all traces of electronics so, along with phone calls, he makes sure to write her letters for her long days in the operating room.

He’s handsome and smart and charming and she is utterly convinced he’s the one. 

“How are things with you and Jake?” 

Abby looks up at her mom’s question and she holds her breath. She knows that her father disapproves of him; Richard Sullivan is a banker, his wife a teacher and his daughter almost a doctor. 

Jake Griffin with his filthy hands and a one-parent family cannot match, he’s made that very clear. 

But her mother adores him. And Abby...Abby is in love. 

“We’re serious,” Abby says confidently, her knife paused perfectly cutting her lamb and she risks another glance to her father. “He plans on moving to the city with me so that we can settle better.”

Richard laughs from his seat and raises his eyebrows. “With what money will he do that? I suppose you’ll be supporting this move with the money we lend to you?”

“Jake has money.”

“From fixing cars?”

“Yes,” Abby argues, passion in her veins at the very thought of someone belittling Jake or making him feel inferior. As a family the Sullivans have brought themselves out of the gutter, they’re not from old money, and Abby does not understand the need to keep the family ‘rich’. “He works hard, daddy. As you work hard and as mom does. He’s a good man and he’ll make a wonderful husband and father. Don’t you trust me?”

“This has never been about trust, Abigail. It’s about what is right. And I just don’t believe he is right for you.”

His tone is final and Abby knows that it is the end of the conversation.

But that just makes her more determined. 

* * *

“He’s going to regret not supporting us, baby. We’re going to have the biggest house with the fastest cars and the most beautiful children known to mankind. Trust me, I’ve pictured it all.”

Abby presses the telephone closer to her ear, closing her eyes and picturing the same images that Jake is telling her. “How many children?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“How perfect the first one is.”

“Jake!”

* * *

She’s twenty-five, the Millenium Bug didn’t wipe out the world, and Clarke Griffin is perfection.

“I’m dedicating my life to protecting this girl,” Jake tells her in a promising tone. She flutters at the image in front of her; her husband, all bright blue eyes and dirty skin holding the tiniest girl. “Do you hear that, Clarke? Forget cars and businesses and anything else. My life’s mission will be to protect you from anything that might want to hurt you.” 

And Abby utterly believes him.

**NOW**

Jake moves out on a Wednesday and, suddenly, Abby hates Wednesdays. 

They’ve been separated for almost six months by the time Jake has his things together and has managed to settle everything he needs to before buying a new home. Still, it comes as a shock when she wakes up to a moving van outside of her front door. 

Of course Aurora Blake is there, jogging slowly by like this is the route she usually takes--(it’s not)--and she pretends to avoid eye-contact when she catches sight of Abby in the window. 

She knows by Noon the whole town will know. 

Hell. They’ll know as soon as Aurora sends her text message to the Community Watch group.

Abby was there when Jake broke the news to Clarke about their separation but he was on the phone and Abby didn’t say much, still too estranged from her only child. She heard her daughter cry and she heard a familiar voice say her name and there was a security she felt that Lexa would be there for her daughter. 

“I’ve left the keys on the table by the door,” Jake tells her from where he’s standing in the doorway and Abby turns, heartbroken and sore. “I don’t think I’ve left anything but if I have you can just box it up. I can send you my address if you don’t want me to come back here.”

Abby laughs at that. “I don’t particularly want you to leave, Jake.”

“Neither do I but this isn’t going anywhere, Abby. Nothing is changing. And I’m sorry but you know I can’t live in a house that doesn’t protect my daughter. I just can’t.”

“Don’t pretend Clarke is the only reason you’re doing this.”

Jake frowns and crosses his arms, his old t-shirt tightening around his chest and arms, and Abby rolls her eyes because she’s told him to get rid of that t-shirt multiple times. It’s almost like he’s mocking her. “Clarke  _ isn’t  _ the reason and I never want you to say that again. She already believes she’s caused this and with everything going on with her at the moment I don’t want you to add to that. I’m doing this because we’re not twenty-five anymore and taking on the world together, we’ve stopped fighting as a team. We’re broken, Abby, and I can’t be the only one to try and fix us.”

He’s right so she does what she always does and ignores the facts. “What’s going on with Clarke?”

“Her and Lexa have broken up.”

“Oh. Is she okay?”

At that, Jake laughs. But it isn’t kind. “Do you care?”

She must take too long to answer because Jake just nods at her and pushes away from the door frame before turning and walking down the stairs. 

She’ll never admit it outloud but her first thought upon hearing Jake’s words about Lexa and Clarke breaking up echo in her mind:  _ I knew it wouldn’t last.  _

(She wonders if her father is looking down and thinking the same thing too.)

* * *

“Aden, come here,” calls across the waiting room and a small blur runs towards Abby just in time for her to grab hold of him. A giggling mess falls against her legs and she hears the clicking of heels catch up to her a few seconds later. The woman is breathless when she sighs out a quick but very grateful, “thank you.”

“Oh no, that’s okay,” Abby smiles and she steadies the young boy before looking up, her face falling instantly. “Anya.”

For a few seconds Anya stares at Abby like she has absolutely no idea who she is but then it slowly dawns on her--Abby can literally see the moment she figures out who she is--and a dark look crosses her face. “Aden. Let’s go.”

“Wait,” Abby says but Anya is already walking away and Abby notes that it takes some confidence to strut away in a huff with a toddler running next to her, one arm in a sling and five-inch heels wrapped around her feet. “I know I’m the last person --”

“No, you don’t get to speak,” Anya says as she stops completely and she pauses for a few seconds as Aden scuttles off to play with the toys laid out. She makes sure he is far enough away when she whips around and the buckles on her leather jacket snap off one another with the force of her turn. “I already know what you’re going to say. You’re going to say that you didn’t mean to cause any hurt, that you were protecting your daughter and that all you want is the best for her. You’ll probably try and throw in a couple of excuses; you’re from a different generation, that the Church won’t accept her or that you don’t want her to end up like another Roxanne Ellis or Saskia Gunn, right?”

Abby flounders, her eyes casting around the full waiting room and the receptionists who know her so well. 

“You don’t get to come to me and try and justify your actions, Doctor. Not when I’ve seen what your good intentions have done to my sister and to your daughter.” 

Abby halts her again with a soft hand on her shoulder, hoping she doesn’t turn away again, but Anya stands solid and Abby feels the genuine need to remove her hand. “I’m trying to make it better.”

“ _ Trying _ ? You’re  _ trying  _ to love your daughter? How gracious of you.”

“I don’t think --”

“No. You don’t think. You don’t think about how many nights Clarke was at my house when they were in high school, crying over  _ you.  _ Or how many times I had to convince my sister that you wouldn’t  _ hurt  _ her. You don’t think about your words or how they hurt. And I sort of get it; you’re old and you think gay people didn’t exist in your time or whatever, but it’s time to wake up.”

And Abby, oh Abby believes that she’s had this coming for a long time. There’s a fire in Anya’s words that seems to fuel her as she continues and she knows--she can see--just how protective this woman is of her family, of her sister. And the truth is simple; she can’t say anything.

Anya already threw her defence back in her face.

“I want to make it better. You have to believe me.”

“With all due respect,  _ Doctor, _ I don’t have to do anything you tell me to do,” Anya says and Abby has never felt as small or insignificant in her entire life. She wonders if this is how Clarke felt each time Abby cut her down. “But if you’re trying to make it better maybe call your daughter and ask if she’s okay.”

Abby nods and Anya leaves and she wishes it could be that simple. 

* * *

Her house is empty and quiet so when a knock echoes through her house, she startles. 

She isn’t afraid of much but she’s still slow to answer the large front door. The image that greets her when she opens it isn’t one she was ever expecting and the weight drops from her shoulders, a sympathetic look in her eyes. “Lexa.”

Confusion paints Lexa’s face when the door opens and Abby tries to not feel offended at the frown that forms between the girls brows, frustration lacing her features. “Is Jake here?”

“No,” Abby says and she’s willing to leave it there but the poor girl at the door looks defeated and sad and like a young girl who just needs some help. “Is everything okay?”

Lexa blinks. “Yeah. I mean,  _ yes.  _ It’s just...He told me if I needed to, you know, speak to him to come over. But I guess -- I don’t know,” she clears her throat and shifts from foot to foot, looking lost. “Is he at the garage? I can catch him there.” 

“I’m not sure.”

Tears build in Lexa’s eyes and she looks so frustrated and so  _ tired _ that the maternal side of Abby kicks in without her permission. It’s heading into winter and Lexa is frail and beaten and just so, so sad. And yes -- Abby is aware she could let Lexa go; the garage is only a ten minute drive and Lexa has lived in Arkadia all of her life, she knows where it is, but something screams at her to stop. 

To just listen.

(Jesus. Lexa is just a child.)

“Why don’t you come in and you can call Jake from inside where it’s warm?” The words shock even herself and Lexa stands in front of her with confusion and mistrust all over her face. “Come on.”

“I shouldn’t.”

Abby understands her reluctance to enter her house but there is a chill in the air that is set to settle deep into bones and she can already see their breath beginning to come out in small bursts.The truth is, she doesn’t think she’s ever had a conversation with Lexa--In truth, this might be the longest conversation she’s ever had with the girl--but she’s not going to turn her away.

She doesn’t think she’s physically able to do it.

“Lexa, please. There’s no ulterior motive. It’s freezing cold tonight and I’m sure Jake would rather come and collect you than have you wandering the streets,” Lexa’s eyes light up a little at Jake’s name and Abby fights to not feel alone. “Let me get you a warm drink.”

She walks inside without looking back to see if Lexa is following but a soft click of the door closing lets her know that Lexa is meeting her halfway. As she enters the kitchen she feels the warmth surrounding her again and something inside of her hopes Lexa feels it too, hopes she’ll stop shivering, hopes she’ll warm up. 

When she turns around Lexa is already tapping away on her phone and Abby wonders if she really is that awful, if being with her for only a few seconds is really that hard that Lexa feels desperate enough to immediately ask for help in leaving.

“I’m sorry,” Lexa breaks the silence and when Abby looks at her she looks so young. “Jake mentioned that he was moving house and to give him time but I just...There’s a lot of memories, you know? Anya said it would be good for me to come home for a few days. Because Clarke never comes back home. But there’s more memories of her here than there is in college.”

There’s a disconnect between Lexa’s words and her eyes and Abby wonders if she even knows that she’s speaking out loud. Years of experience in the medical world have told her to listen, to let Lexa say what it is that she needs to say and maybe it’ll get better. 

“Jake told me about the break up.”

At her words Lexa’s face scrunches up and Abby watches her heart break. “I know it is for the best. We became too dependent on one another and I think she was dealing with so much after you and Jake --” Lexa trails off, like she’s said too much. Abby is certain she hasn’t said enough. “I just need her to be happy. That’s all I’ve ever needed.”

“Is she not happy?”

“It’s not for me to say really,” Lexa whispers and it’s like the words are too loud for her. “We were really happy, Mrs. Griffin. She made me the happiest I think I’ve ever been and I know that feeling was replicated. And I know that’s probably not what you want to hear but I just thought you should know that.” 

“Why wouldn’t I want to hear that she’s happy?”

Lexa scowls. “Because I’m a girl.”

_ Oh.  _

“I’m not going to sit and pretend that this is easy for me, Lexa. I’ve always had a future for Clarke mapped out in my mind and that has never once included a woman; it just hasn’t. It’s clear that what you and Clarke have-- what you  _ had _ \--was rather special but you have to understand that all I want for her is to be safe and healthy and loved.”

“That’s all I want too.”

“Then you’ll understand where I am coming from.”

“No.”

Abby sighs, defeated. “Lexa.”

“I apologise if this comes across as rude, Mrs. Griffin, but I don’t think even you know where you are coming from. You have a lot of prejudice and hate for people like me and Clarke and maybe that stems from somewhere traumatic, or maybe you just don’t like the idea of people being capable of love, but I have never done anything to you personally. In fact I’ve done nothing but love and support your daughter to the best of my ability.”

“People can be cruel. All I want is to protect her,” it sounds repetitive, even to Abby, but the words spill out quicker than an apology. “She’s my daughter and the world isn’t kind.”

Lexa nods, passionate and loving and full of words she’s never been able to say before. “Exactly, so she needs someone to be there for her. Is it true about hate crime linking with LGBT individuals? Yes, of course it is. But that fear is never going to stop me loving your daughter with everything I have inside of me. This is not a choice, Mrs. Griffin, but even if it was I would choose Clarke over and over again.”

“Your heart is broken, Lexa. You’re hurt and angry and think you might need someone to blame --”

“No. You don’t get to put this down to my emotions because you don’t like what I’m saying. Truthfully I don’t want to disrespect you in your own home so I’m really trying hard to be understanding and polite, but can I just say that I don’t think you honestly have an issue with Clarke being bisexual or even dating me.” 

Lexa pauses and there’s an emotion on her face that Abby has only ever seen twice before. She wore it herself when defending Elizabeth, she wore it when defending Jake. And she can see that passion and that fire now from Lexa. 

She almost smiles when Lexa continues. “I think you’re stubborn and I think you want to be right and that is what is holding you back. Don’t blame the Church and don’t blame the archaic mindset. This is about you and your own insecurities and I really want you to know that I have fought for Clarke to speak to you again because you’re her mom and she needs you; but, really, it comes down to you and whether you’re willing to put your pride aside.”

Abby opens her mouth to speak but a knock on the door distracts her and she hears Lexa let out a nervous breath; her eyes are wide, like she’s startled herself with her outburst and that maybe she’s said some things that shouldn’t have been said, and Abby decides to answer the door instead of facing the harsh truth of the girls words. 

She isn’t surprised to find Jake on the other side and she wordlessly invites him in. There’s a rush about him, a fatherly worry, and she follows him into the kitchen in time to see him wrap an arm around Lexa’s shoulders and pull her closer in a one-armed embrace. “Hey, kid.”

“Hi.”

“You ready to go?”

It doesn’t take a second for Lexa to agree and Abby would have been offended if she didn’t agree that space would be better for everyone. “I’m sorry again, Mrs. Griffin. I know that wasn’t my place to say any of those things but I also know Clarke will never say them. It doesn’t give me any joy to say she’s hurting right now, just like I am, and I think she’ll need her mom to help her. That’s all.”

“Goodnight, Lexa,” Abby says because admitting to her faults, saying she’s wrong, denying her own pride is too painful. 

Even now, even after losing everything, it’s still difficult to be wrong. 

* * *

That night Abby tries--she really tries--and she opens up the contact for Clarke on her cellphone. 

With just one click she calls her daughter after eighteen months of silence.

(The call goes unanswered.)

**iii**

**THEN**

If there is anyone in the world who she cannot bear to be compared to it’s her father. She’s always heard that eventually children become their parents but, honestly and truthfully, she hopes she ends up nothing like Richard Sullivan.

Richard Sullivan, the absentee grandfather because he isn’t willing to make peace with Jake.

Richard Sullivan, estranged and lonely from his daughter. 

She’s grateful to her mother who, despite protests and arguments, still stayed in Clarke’s life until she died just after Clarke’s third Christmas. Abby knows that, without her, Clarke would have grown up without grandparents and though her father doesn’t exactly  _ visit  _ he is accepting when Abby and Clarke turn up to his doorstep. 

It isn’t the same but it’s the right thing to do.

* * *

Clarke is busy watching her toes when it happens and Abby has to hold her breath. She’s just picked her daughter up from kindergarten and Clarke distracted herself with her toes peeking out of her sandals in the middle of her story about colouring time. It’s hard not to giggle at her daughter, a perfect mirror image of Jake, and as she looks up to shake fallen hair from her eyes she spots her.

Elizabeth. 

She’s holding a squirming boy who is too busy doubling over in laughter to do much more than sag in his mother's arms and Abby cannot look away. Long gone are the cigarettes and black lipstick. Long blonde curls replace the pixie cut and Abby finds herself wondering if she still has a nose piercing. 

There’s a tiny tug on her hand and Abby distracts herself with Clarke who has, inexplicitly, taken a singular sandal off and is offering it to her mom while she wriggles her toes on the grass. “Clarke,” she sighs but there’s a smile tugging on her lips, brightening her eyes, and she easily takes the tiny shoe as Clarke bursts into laughter over nothing. 

“Hi Bryan,” Clarke cheers and of course it’s directed to the little boy in Elizabeth’s arms. Because why wouldn’t it be? “This is my mom.”

“Hi, I’m going to play,” Bryan smiles and the image is so reminiscent of a young Elizabeth that it startles Abby. Bryan wriggles his way down his mom’s body and goes to play with Clarke, an innocent and confident nature about it that only young children seem to possess.

Abby doesn’t think that she’s changed much from being a teenager--a few extra lines around the eyes, a few stretch marks for carrying Clarke--but, for a long moment, Elizabeth looks at her absently. 

She isn’t sure why it hurts so much.

“Abby Sullivan,” Elizabeth finally says and it’s so breathy and airy that Abby doesn’t know how she ever forgot Elizabeth’s voice. “Of all the Kindergartens in America and you turn up at mine.”

“Yours?”

“Bryan’s dad is the Principal. It’s not exactly mine but, you know, what’s his is mine,” she laughs quietly, almost like she’s embarrassed at her own joke, and she rolls her eyes at herself quickly before shaking her head. Silence begins to descend on them, Abby nervous and Elizabeth out of sorts, and the blonde forges ahead. She was always the brave one, Abby thinks. “So do you still live in Mount Weather?”

Abby nods, grateful for the easy conversation. “Yes. We thought we’d settle down here for a while until Clarke gets a little older. I’m working at the hospital but I have my eye on a few positions in Polis. Do you know it? The hospital there, Arkadia General, has one of the best Orthopedic Centres I’ve ever seen.”

“Always aiming for the stars, Sullivan.”

“Oh. Actually, it’s Griffin now,” Abby smiles. The pure happiness on Elizabeth’s face fills her with a joy she didn’t know she had. She’s  _ proud  _ of Abby and Abby wishes she could place the feeling. “I married Jake when I fell pregnant with Clarke.” 

Elizabeth looks perfectly excited which only serves to make Abby smile harder. “Congratulations. I always knew you’d be the first to get married.”

“You’re not?”

“No,” Elizabeth laughs like Abby is telling the best joke in the world and Abby’s smile falters a little, unsure how to respond. “We’re not the  _ traditional  _ type, I suppose. Nicholas wouldn’t know what an engagement ring looks like if I circled it in front of him and proposed to myself. We’ve been together for almost eight years now though. If it’s going to happen, I’m sure it’ll happen naturally.”

Abby, a long time supporter of the traditional marriage stares blankly for a few seconds too long before she snaps out of it. “Well as long as you’re both happy,” she says and Elizabeth has the same look on her face as she did all those years ago at the bus station. Disappointed, but not exactly surprised. “And you have a son.”

“Yeah, he’s cool,” she grins. Truthfully Abby hasn’t ever heard a woman describe their child as ‘cool’ before but Elizabeth has never exactly followed the crowd. “He thinks everything is a game which makes it easy to keep the baby weight off.”

“Not that you need it.”

Elizabeth smirks, “That’s what all the girls and boys tell me.” It takes Abby a few moments to register the words so when she does Elizabeth’s face has already changes and she adopts a more regretful tone. “Listen about what I told you the last time that we spoke.”

“About you liking…”

Elizabeth waits for Abby to complete the sentence. She waits and she waits. “Girls. I told you I liked girls.”

“Yes,” Abby nods and gestures towards Bryan who, for some reason, is on his back while Clarke charges around with a stick and one sandal still on her foot. She hopes Elizabeth doesn’t see that particular feature of her daughter. “But I suppose it doesn’t matter now.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well you have a son. And a husband, or -- A partner? I feel he might be too old to call a boyfriend,” Abby teases but Elizabeth doesn’t join the smiling or laughter. In fact she looks perturbed. “I can honestly forget that you told me that if it makes it easier for you.”

Suddenly Elizabeth seems uncomfortable. Abby watches as she wrings her fingers together, shifts from foot to foot, and she sighs deeply. “I don’t know why I thought…” Elizabeth trails off and closes her eyes before bringing one of her hands to brush through her hair, sweeping it to the side nervously. “I only brought it up to say I’ve forgiven you for walking away.”

“Forgiven me?”

“Yes. That was the hardest time of my life and you just picked up your bags and  _ left,  _ Abby,” she’s defensive now, angry. And Abby is blindsighted. “We were supposed to be best friends and you just walked away like I told you I’d murdered someone.”

“I didn’t know how to respond.”

“I wasn’t exactly full of knowledge myself, Sullivan,” Elizabeth snaps. 

“Well does it matter anymore? You’ve forgiven me and it doesn’t matter now, surely. You have a man in your life and a son. We can forget about the conversation and move forward.”

“You know, I still like girls,” Elizabeth admits, her frown turning deeper as Abby freezes and shifts uncomfortably on the spot like the revelation bothers her. “Just because I’m in love with Nicholas doesn’t mean that still isn’t true. But I’ve accepted that as part of me now. It doesn’t define me but those I surround myself with don’t walk away if they learn it about me.”

“If you’re in love with Nicolas then you’re hardly a lesbian,” Abby scoffs but the noise sounds confused, guilty, and she ends the sentence at something that is barely more than a whisper. Like saying the word out loud would make it true. “In fact, I don’t think this conversation is appropriate for the schoolyard.”

Elizabeth laughs and laughs. “I’m bisexual. Just for future reference,” she snips and all too suddenly she’s turning her body away from Abby and gesturing to Bryan. “Come here, buddy. We’ve got to go.”

“I’m playing!”

“And I’m being serious. Let’s go,” Elizabeth calls, cooly turning her brown eyes back to Abby with an incomplete stare. She says nothing, not until Byan slumps against her legs in protest of leaving, and she picks up her son. Abby watches as she holds the boy closer, a slight tremble in her hands. “I really wish you all the best, Abigail. And I hope you find some peace within yourself.” 

She doesn’t understand that. Abby isn’t the one who needs to find it. “I wish you peace too,” she says seriously but Elizabeth does nothing more than walk away.

* * *

(It’s not until she’s in the car with Clarke babbling away about fighting monsters at the mountain does she realise that she never apologised for leaving Elizabeth that day.

She was only ever forgiven.)

**NOW**

Abby always pictured Clarke’s wedding to be a big affair. She envisioned white lights and golden colours, an emotional husband-to-be waiting for her at the altar and meeting her with a soft handhold and a handsome smile. She imagined it to be in a Church-- _ their  _ Church--and she saw Jake giving her away with a trembling lip and Clarke looking at her mom for support as she ventured into her new life with her husband. 

She saw everything, planned it all. 

But she never believed it could be as beautiful as the image in front of her. 

* * *

“Being with you Lexa has been the greatest adventure of my life. By your side I’ve become a better woman, a stronger partner and you’ve taught me patience and compassion like nobody else in my life has been able to. I knew on that day in September when you jogged into my life that I was about to go on a journey that even my wildest dreams couldn’t produce and I was right. You’re a force of nature; powerful and strong and I’m so lucky, so proud, to join with you for the rest of my life. Our road hasn’t been easy but somehow, because of you, it’s been the safest and most secure path to follow. You’re my world, Lexa. I vow that no matter what, no matter what is thrown at us, I will love you and support you and be ever faithful to us.”

\---

“I remember meeting you and how lost and scared and vulnerable I felt. When you walked into my life with your positive words and your friendship, you turned me upside down and I’m still waiting to recover. There was a time that I felt like I wouldn’t ever get back up, that the world was too harsh and too difficult for me to navigate. But then you came and you made everything make sense again. You’re my light, my guide, my best friend, my lover. You’re so unapologetic in your love for us that I couldn’t ever imagine navigating this world without you. I want to spend the rest of my life loving you and showing you how perfect you are, how wonderful and thoughtful and intelligent you are. I vow to forever be whatever you need me to be; your wife, your best friend, your confidant. I love you, Clarke. I think I always have.”

\---

A soft melody plays through the trees and Abby struggles to differentiate it between the soft movement of water and the rustling of leaves in the trees. There’s a significance to this place that she wishes she had the knowledge to, knowledge that she knows everyone else here has, but she doesn’t question and she doesn’t make a scene. 

If anything, she blends as far back into the crowd as she is able to do. 

“Abby,” Jake sighs quietly as he approaches her and it’s the first time that she’s heard him sound so happy and soft in years. Once the divorce was settled she was sure she wouldn’t hear from him but, being Jake and being perfect, he kept her in the loop of Clarke’s life as often as he could. Of anyone in the world, Jake Griffin deserves the most happiness. “I’m glad you came.”

Behind him the sun is getting lower in the sky, not quite evening yet but enough that shadows darken the stubble on his jaw and cheeks. He stands tall in his suit, measured perfectly for his body, and Abby has to wonder who helped him to pick it out. Wonders if there is anyone helping him with those things now she isn’t in his life anymore.

It’s not her place to ask those questions but they linger.

“It was a beautiful wedding,” she admits. It’s possibly as close as she’ll ever get to admitting her support but Jake’s unwavering loyalty shines in his eyes and he smiles at her. Beneath his eyes she can see the dried remenants of tears and she’s taken back to her own wedding and she smiles softly, remembering how Jake barely got through his vows before his voice broke on a warm-hearted sob. 

He laughs as he always has done; rich and thick like honey and Abby is struck at how lucky Clarke is to be so like her father. So warm and open and comfortable. “I couldn’t imagine the wedding of these two being anything less than beautiful,” he chuckles, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “You should see their house. The artist in Clarke mixed with Lexa’s style. It puts all those shows on the television to shame.”

“Yes, I suppose it does,” she says. While Jake has kept her as up to date as he can with the movements of Clarke, she’s still very aware of how much she has missed out on. “I’m going to congratulate them. Join me?”

“I think this should be something you do by yourself,” he whispers but it’s supportive and strong. As he leaves to see Raven--looking beautiful in a red wrapped dress, the material doing nothing to hide her growing baby bump--he gives her a brief squeeze to her shoulder. “She’s waiting for you.”

* * *

Barefoot and spilling laughter from between her lips Clarke Griffin-Woods is the perfect embodiment of the tiny rascal at kindergarten that used to hang off of every single word Abby said.

Lexa stands just on the shore edge, barefoot and natural too, and she holds Clarke’s hand delicately as her daughter paddles in the ankle deep water. Tiny grey rocks scuttle over one another, the water rippling around Clarke’s feet, and they are just far enough away from the wedding party that the soothing sound of the river is all she can really hear. 

And she wishes, prays even, that she knew how to approach them. She’d watched, just after the vows and the kiss and the excited squeal of Clarke, as people ran towards them and hugged both women and kissed their cheeks. She watched with envy bubbling beneath her skin at how Indra wrapped her arms around her daughter, how Gustus kissed Clarke’s cheek in the softest possible way. 

Jealousy, while natural, was one of the few emotions Abby has never quite managed to get under control. 

“Clarke,” she finally says and her daughter halts in her motions, her blue eyes snapping up quickly, and she watches as Lexa steps forward to steady her with a hand to her waist and uncaring about the cold water lapping at her toes. “I hope you don’t mind...I just wanted to reach out.”

Clarke blinks, her hold on Lexa ever tightening. “Mom?”

“Hi.”

“Mom.”

Abby nods and walks towards the women, one hesitant footstep at a time. There’s a protective air about Lexa but it seems to dissipate as Clarke leaves the cool water to walk towards her, her own footfalls quiet and timid. Her eyes fall to Clarke’s hand, adorned with two beautiful rings, and she watches her fingers clench and unclench in nervous reaction. 

“Your wedding was beautiful,” she says, because it’s all she can say, because she still doesn’t know what the word ‘sorry’ tastes like. Sometimes she begs to the sky to understand it. “You’re beautiful. Both of you.”

Lexa smiles but doesn’t say anything. She’s simple in her elegance, white lace moving down her lightly tanned arms and wrapping around thing wrists. A white satin material wraps around her body and she’s honestly beautiful; poised, lovely, effortless. Abby can understand Clarke’s attraction but she also knows she fell for Lexa’s heart, she  _ knows  _ that. 

“You came,” Clarke whispers, her voice disbelieving, thick with tears that haven’t quite built yet. Abby looks behind her to see if Lexa will come forward to comfort her and provide a united front but she stands back, eyes on the river and ears on the conversation. “I didn’t think you would. You never replied to the RSVP.”

Shame creeps up Abby’s neck, settling in a blush around her throat and her cheeks. She feels the heat licking at her skin but she fights past it, desperate to fix things. “I know. I wasn’t sure if the invite was extended out of courtesy or because you wanted me here.”

“You’re my mom and this is the most important day of my life. Of course I want you here.”

“After everything I didn’t want to assume.”

Clarke scoffs but it sounds thick and wet and Abby feels her heart crack at the sound.  _ People are cruel,  _ she reminds herself.  _ Sometimes the cruelest person is yourself.  _

“Mom…” Clarke trails off leaving Abby to wonder where she was going to go with that. Instead Clarke huffs deeply, a shaky inhale that frees the tears from her eyes and Abby rushes forward. It’s immediate; to wrap Clarke in her arms, to comfort her. 

(She cannot understand why she couldn’t do this when Clarke needed her the most.)

“I love you,” she exhales against her temple, soft perfume invading her senses and a feeling of familiarity when arms wrap around her and hold her tightly. “I love you. I wish I knew how to show you more. But I love you, Clarke. That has never gone away.”

She’s not asking for forgiveness or understanding. 

She just hopes that beyond cruel words and meaner actions, Clarke hears her. 

“I love you too.”

* * *

She doesn’t go to the after party. Even with her daughter she knows this is all brand new and that it’s delicate, that foal-like steps need to be made to ensure an even walk. 

(She’s sure she’ll hear  _ all  _ about it at brunch tomorrow anyway.)

Before she falls asleep her phone lights up and she opens it to find a picture message from an unknown number. As she opens it she’s greeted with the joyous face of her daughter, her mouth open in a laughter she can hear through the screen. She’s changed her clothing; rather than the white dress she’s dressed in black bodysuit and her eyes are darkened with eyeliner and shadow. 

She’s beautiful.

** _Thank you for helping her smile like this again._ **

** _ _\-- Lexa. _ _ **

That night she prays for the safe, healthy, long-lasting marriage of her daughter. He prays that Jake finds the happiness and the love he deserves. And she prays for herself, prays she can find the courage to be a better person and find the words to forgive herself. 

**iv.**

**EVENTUALLY**

It doesn’t last long.

Abby wonders if she’s simply destined to clash with Clarke for the rest of her life. Part of her is sure this is some kind of repentance for the way she treated her father, for how she disobeyed her parents as a teenager and ran off with Jake regardless, for dismissing Elizabeth (twice).

She desperately wishes she knew how to make it right but when Clarke announces she’s pregnant, that her and Lexa are starting a family, her old worries surface and all of the progress she has made with Clarke is demolished with a few little words.

_ Who is the father? _

What kind of idiotic, superficial, closed-minded question is that? 

She knows she was wrong but she’s seen the aftermath of brutality, of bullying, of hate. She wants Clarke to understand that she really needs to think this through, that their child will have questions and confusion and -- She just wants to  _ help. _

After Clarke left--(stormed out)--Abby finds herself alone and unsure. Marcus tries to help; he’s kind and resourceful and sweet, but he doesn’t have all of the answers and Abby tries to find them through her faith and the one place she knows will help.

“Doctor, how lovely to see you,” Pastor Jaha greets and Abby smiles tightly, greeting him with a touch of her hand and he politely steps to the side to let her past. “How have you been?”

“Clarke’s pregnant,” she says immediately, the words still running around her mind at how badly she’s ruined it. “Her and Lexa are starting a family.”

Jaha stays quiet for a moment before he realises that she isn’t going to continue and she smiles softly. “Congratulations.”

“I’m struggling. I’ve accepted that she’s with a wom--That she is with Lexa. But a child is a new level. I don’t want her to do something she might regret.”

“Certainly a child is nothing short of a miracle,” Jaha says quietly, crossing his arms politely in front of him and remaining passive as always. He leads the two of them to an empty pew and sits down gently, his entire demeanor calm and gentle. “While I, myself have struggled with acceptance in the past I think it’s safe to say that Clarke--and Lexa--are both wise and stubborn in their decision making. I can’t imagine a child of theirs will grow up in a home that is void of love, affection or faith.”

Abby nods, agreeing. “They’re two women though. The Bible teaches us differently.”

“The Bible also spares no mention to modern medicine but you practice that daily,” he smiles kindly and there is no argument at the tip of Abby’s tongue that can compare. “I believe our faith is rooted in being good, being faithful and loving equally.”

“Can you say that?”

Jaha smiles quietly, his eyes kind and patient and Abby inhales slowly as she feels herself relaxing. There’s always a certain sense of calm that overpowers her when she’s in Church, a sense of peace and tranquility. Today is no different.

“People will interpret the Bible’s teaching how they feel is right for them. God gave us Free Will. Personally I find comfort in the pages. Others may find answers. Clarke was an amazing girl when I knew her, as was Lexa. Prideful, rambunctious, full of the joys of life and I watched those be drained from both girls through guilt and harrowing words,” he plays with his fingers for a moment, shame on his face. “I believe I let Lexa down the most. But she’s proven to be more than capable of rising and continuing, as we are taught.”

A burning feeling behind her eyes builds and Abby blinks to rid it, only for the tears to fall onto her cheeks and slip down towards her mouth. Twin trails blaze paths on her skin and she wipes at them quickly, shamefully. “Am I a bad person?”

“I believe you’re a good person on a complicated path,” he replies softly. “But you’re not bad.” 

“What should I do?”

“I think you need to find forgiveness within yourself before you ask for the forgiveness of others. And then I trust you’ll find your way.”

* * *

Clarke and Lexa’s house looks exactly as Abby expects and she isn’t surprised to find it connects via the backyard to Jake’s. 

(Jake and Clarke have always been the best of friends.)

It stands tall and proud. The garden holds green, green grass and a small fence surrounds it. Next to the door hangs a wind chime that looks handmade and on the opposite side of it lays a golden cross. She isn’t sure why that addition surprises her but it does and she finds herself looking at it for a long moment, her fingers inching closer to run across the lines. 

It takes five minutes for her to build the courage to knock on the door--(almost a year to find herself on the doorstep)--and she breathes deeply, her chest moving strongly. 

When the door opens Lexa stands there, a small baby laying on her shoulder as she supports the tiny body with her hand, and she stutters for a moment before she lets out a soft, “Oh.”

“Hello Lexa,” she says quietly, ignoring the grimace for Lexa as she clearly struggles with something. “Can I come in?”

“Are you going to make my wife cry again?”

Abby notes how she says ‘my wife’ and not Clarke, emphasizing how serious she is. “No. I’m here to...I’d like to apologise. To both of you.”

“Are you going to question us about the father of my child?”

“Lexa,” scolds from behind her and Clarke approaches. She looks tired and wonderful and completely loved. Abby sighs at the amazing sight. “Mom?”

“I’m sorry,” she says and she isn’t expecting forgiveness or warm embraces but it’s a start.

It’s the first step.

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully you enjoyed. Let me know! Hit me up at brokendevilwrites.tumblr.com or leave a comment :)


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